


How Hard Can It Be?

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Y/N’s charms have always been nearly impossible for Dean to resist. But when a wayward curse gets flung his way, Dean’s inability to control his lustful ways may end up costing him his life.~





	How Hard Can It Be?

 “Willowdale, Wyoming, population: minus four dead guys.” Dean’s grin was one of confidence at his own joke that slowly faded as Sam looked up, unamused. He went with it, however, and spun on his heel as he dropped the newspaper onto the table.

“Four dead guys,” he went on, wagging an excited finger as he took the seat across from Sam, “all married, happily. Four identical heart attacks. Hearts literally…”

 “Exploded,” Sam interrupted correctly as he scanned the article.

 “What exploded?” Y/N asked in a sleepy hum as she meandered into the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.

 “Hearts.” Dean gave her an excited smile, lifting his brows as his green eyes widened, but Y/N cringed.

 “Gross.”

 Sam continued, brining the small print closer to his aging eyes. “All of the vics had massive corrinaries.”

 “While…” Dean waited for the punchline, leaning over the table to get a good view of Sam's reaction.

 “While having sex with their wives,” Sam concluded.

 “There it is!” Dean slapped the table and sat back, proud of himself for finding a juicy case.

 “Um…” Y/N piped up from behind Sam, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the article. “One, why are you so excited about this?”

 Dean shrugged, unsure himself.

 “And two,” Y/N said, taking a sip of coffee before it spilled on Sam, “what does this have to do with us? Old guys have heart attacks during sex all the time. It's kind of cliche.”

 “Well,” Sam interjected, holding up the paper for her. “All but one of the victims were in their early to mid thirties. All in good physical health, no known heart conditions.”

 “And the old guy?” She asked, resting her chin on Sam's shoulder as she read.

 “Not that old. Early forties.”

 They both looked up at Dean, who scoffed. “I'm not early forties,” he gasped.

 “Close enough,” Sam chuckled.

 “It's OK, baby,” Y/N laughed. “I still love you.” She blew Dean an air kiss while he rolled his eyes.

 Returning to Earth, Dean looked back across the table. “Anyway. It's suspicious, OK? I think we should check it out.”

 Sam sighed and Y/N left his sagging shoulders in favor of the chair next to Dean. She sat sideways and kicked her feet up into his lap, quietly sipping her coffee while he massaged her calf.

 “I suppose it's worth a look,” Sam said, dropping the paper to cover his breakfast plate.

 Dean smiled and nodded, then turned his eyes to Y/N expectantly.

 “What?” she asked above the rim of her mug.

 “You coming?”

 Y/N shook her head. “Nope.”

 Dean twisted in his seat. “Nope?”

 “I got my own case, thank you.”

 Dean gasped in dramatic shock and shot a look at Sam who simply shrugged.

 “You want to share with the class, or…”

 Y/N dropped her feet and leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her coffee. “What? I'm not allowed to go off on my own sometimes?”

 “You could get hurt,” Dean answered, overprotective as always.

 Y/N laughed and looked back over her shoulder. “Dude. I've been hunting for almost as long as you have. By myself. I can handle a salt and burn.”

 Dean made a noise that spoke volumes.

 “Besides,” she went on, ignoring his concern, “I'm not the one always getting cursed, or shot, or flung into walls and shit. That'd be you.” She ended with a loud slurp of coffee and sat back.

 Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find a defense. “I do not always get…”

 Sam and Y/N both looked up as if to say, “Really?”, and Dean sucked his teeth.

 “Whatever.” His pout was exquisite and Y/N softened, laying a gentle yet slightly condescending hand on his stubbled cheek.

 “Awe, my poor baby.”

 Dean swatted her hand away and continued to sulk. “Ya know, I take those hits so you two don't have to,” he said firmly, pointing at each of them in turn. “So you guys don't get hurt. I'm a goddamned hero.”

 Sam choked back a laugh, clearing his throat and looking off into the distance.

 Y/N smiled and nodded, still placating him. “I know you do, baby. You're my big, strong, sexy hero.”

 “Damn right.” Dean huffed.

 “So if I'm not in the line of fire this time,” Y/N asked in a teasing tone, “then you'll come out of this case totally unscathed?”

 Sam bit his tongue, trying not to laugh.

 Dean shrugged. “Yeah.”

 “And you won't get slammed into a bookcase or cursed?”

 “Exactly. I'll be fine,” Dean agreed confidently.

 “No broken fingers or tweaked hamstrings,” Y/N went on. “No bloody cheeks or shoulder dislocations…”

 “None.”

 “Huh.” Y/N took another sip of coffee and then stood up. “OK. Prove it.” She pecked Dean's cheek before spinning around him and slipping into the hallway.

 He watched her leave, slightly dazed, and then met Sam's eye.

 “She did it again,” he said, shocked. “Everytime we have an argument and she doesn't like what I have to say, she flips it into something else until I forget.”

 Sam nodded silently, his lips struggling to seal in the laughter. “Mhm.”

 “You knew she was doing that?”

 Sam shrugged and the laugh escaped. “Uh, yeah.”

 Dean growled and pushed his chair back from the table, annoyed. “I hate when you two gang up on me,” he said harshly, making Sam laugh even more. “It's not fair.” He stormed off, his boots crashing against the tile.

 “Maybe don't be so gullible,” Sam called to him as he turned the corner.

 “M-maybe you...bite me!”

 

* * *

 

Four days.

 Thirteen witness interviews.

 Three trips to the morgue.

 Twenty-four and a half cups of crappy coffee.

 Six scandalously intriguing texts from Y/N.

 One nasty-ass witch.

 Dean was having one hell of a week, but they were almost done.

 Turned out that the victims were all ex-boyfriends of a very creative and jealous witch, who showed very few signs of slowing her explosive vengeance tour.

 “Just hold it right there, you sicko bitch!” Dean’s hands were as steady as his voice and the witch turned, casting a deadly eye in his direction.

 Dean gasped and his arms lowered slightly. She was beautiful; long blonde hair that flowed like sunlight down her back, piercing blue eyes, and a voice that ran like warm  honey down his spine as she flung her wicked curse at him. He was too distracted to move out of the way, too mesmerized by her magical beauty to realize what she was doing. He dropped his arms and gave her a sweet smile as his eyes glazed over.

Sam burst through the door behind Dean just as the witch was ending her curse.

“...usque corde uacuatur!”

Bright, hot pink light flashed from her delicate hands and slammed into Dean, knocking him off of his feet and tossing him into a nearby bookcase. He landed with a yelp and quickly passed out as hard covered treasures rained down on his head.

“Dean!” Panting, Sam rushed at the witch who simply laughed and flicked her wrist, sending Sam right back out of the door. He hit the wall with a dull thud and yelled for his brother again as the door slammed shut in his face.

By the time Sam kicked the door down, the witch was gone and Dean was waking up under a blanket of literary greats. He brushed Mr. Dickens off his chest and climbed slowly to his feet as Sam rushed to help him.

Sam clamped a hand on Dean's shoulder. “You OK?”

Dean took a breath and nodded. “You?”

A laugh followed Sam’s agreeing nod, tickling his lips as he eyed the bookshelf. “Ya know…”

Dean snapped to attention and jabbed a finger at Sam in warning. “Not a fucking word.”

Sam pressed his lips together trying to calm his snark. “It's just… Y/N specifically said…”

Dean's eyes narrowed. “Shut it.”

“...bookcase and…”

Dean’s face twisted up as an angry temper tantrum wound tight inside of him. Sam was right. Y/N was right. Dean was annoyed. “You tell her and I'll kick your ass,” he sneered.

Sam shrugged and bit his tongue. “Not a word.”

Since the witch had fled the scene and Dean was sulking, the boys headed back to the motel to regroup.

The closer they got to the room, the more Dean started to worry. His grip on the wheel was absurdly tight; nervous fingers clenching around the old leather.

“This is bad, Sammy,” he muttered as he cut the engine, parking in the lot.

Sam sighed and mustered up a pep talk. “It's not that bad. We've been up against worse.”

The doors creaked in unison.

“She's never gonna let me live this down.” Dean shook his head as he counted the steps towards the room. “Don't you say anything!" he warned for the umpteenth time.

Sam threw his hands up in surrender. "I won't. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” Dean stopped, shocked by the audacity of such a command. “Calm down! How can I calm down! I got freaking cursed! Again!”

Sam grabbed Dean's arm and spun him around to look him in the eye. “Listen, go take a shower. Maybe a nap. I'll go back to Hobart Street and take care of the witch."

Dean's eyes were bulging with each labored breath, panic rising in his chest. "Imma die Sam. My heart's gonna explode."

Sam laughed gently and shook his head. "The curse only kills at the moment of orgasm,” he said plainly, and Dean cringed so Sam treaded more lightly. “So you'll be fine as long as you don't...release any… tension before she's dead. Just don't clean the pipes until I call you. You'll be fine."

Dean nodded but wasn't entirely convinced. "I don't know, Sam. I'm scared.”

The key jingled in Sam's hand and he fit it into the lock.

"Come on, Dean. How hard can it be?"

The door swung open and the boys were treated to a delicious surprise.

Y/N was propped up on the first bed, turned towards the door, her bare leg bent up, dressed in nothing but panties and one of Dean's flannel shirts.

“Heya, Cowboy,” she crooned, biting her lip as she ate Dean alive with her gaze.

Dean swallowed so hard it was audible and Sam stammered beside him.

“Sammy?”

“I'll be quick. I promise.” Sam grabbed the car keys from Dean's nervous fist and turned towards the Impala, whispering as he went, “just don't...cum.”

Dean watched Sam run off with pathetically large eyes that fell closed as he sighed. “Crap.”

“Dean?” Y/N had swung around off the bed and was coming forwards him, looking concerned. “You OK?”

He softened as her hand landed on his cheek. Her palm was warm, fingers gentle and soft as they covered the faint bruise left by War and Peace on his cheekbone.

“I'm fine,” he whispered, leaning in to her touch.

“I'm glad,” she replied, pushing up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his. “I missed you.”

Her tongue slid over his cracked bottom lip and Dean took a breath, parting his lips to let her in. His hands circled her back, pulling her flush against him. Her breasts were firm and full, pressing hard against his chest. Her lips, so wet and hot; her voice angelic yet sinful as she moaned into his mouth…

“Whoa!” Dean broke the kiss as soon as he felt Little Dean stir, and grabbed her hands, quickly giving each a gentlemanly peck before moving away. He had to calm down.

Y/N gave a little shrug and shut the door, leaning up against it once it was closed. Her lip fit nicely between her teeth as she watched Dean flit about, looking for something to occupy himself with.

“So, everything good?” she asked, finding his nerves curious.

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah,” he lied. “Everything's roses.”

“And the case?”

He spun around and feigned a confident smile. “Uh...closed. All… closed up. Good. Done.” He wiped his hands in the air and grinned.

“Sweet.” Y/N pushed herself off of the door and sauntered towards him, a hungry look in her eyes. “So where'd Sam rush off to?”

Dean couldn't help but watch her thighs rub together; little peeks of flesh appearing as the hem of his blue flannel parted with each step. His mouth watered and his pulse quickened. “Wha...uh… food date,” he stumbled as he noticed the gaps between the shirt buttons pull open across her breasts as she moved. “He, um, a food date. A date. Dinner. He's taking some chick out to dinner. For a date.”

“Dean,” she said an awkward smile and narrowed eyes, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” he tried to laugh, brush it off. “Nothing.”

Y/N wasn't buying it. “You're stuttering,” she said, her hands flying to her hips, “and lying, and... what the fuck?” Her tone dropped from accusing to sad. “Are you… do you not want me here?”

“What? No!” He rushed forward, pursing his lips in apology. “Y/N, I'm sorry. I'm just tired.”

A sympathetic smile lit her face. “Oh, Baby…” Her hands left her hips to reach up for him again, this time gently wrapping around his shoulders as she came closer. “I'm sorry.” Her lips touched his jaw and Dean sighed, loving the familiar warmth that radiated from her perfect mouth. “Maybe I can…” She kissed across the shadow on his neck and turned upwards in a tender trail leading to his ear. “...help you relax.” She blew the end of the word slowly into his ear and Dean moaned despite himself. She knew the buttons to press and she pressed them well.

Dean's eyes were rolling closed in gentle submission as Y/N’s hand slid firmly down his chest, reaching his belt before he could think up a clever protest.

“Would that be OK?” she whispered against his lips as her index finger snuck behind the waistband of his jeans.

He answered with a deep affirmative hum that was muted by her kiss. Their lips moved together in a practiced dance, their bodies responsive and heated; hands grabbing and hungry.

Dean pushed his hands beneath her arms and lifted her easily, licking into her mouth as she let out a surprised laugh. They collapsed onto the bed, Y/N landing with a bounce and Dean covering her completely. She clawed at his back, gathering the soft cotton between her fingers, desperate to pull the shirt from his broad shoulders.

“You're ready to go, aren't you?” He laughed, pushing up on his arms to look down at her. She was glistening with sweat, eyes wide, lips puckered and searching.

“Missed you,” she panted, wiggling to fit her legs around his hips and draw him in closer. “Want you now.” She grabbed his ass, pulling him forward, rocking her thinly veiled pussy against the growing bulge beneath his denim. “Can't wait.”

She rolled her hips again and Dean felt his blood boil. He let out a slow breath, trying to calm down, but she was so forceful, so eager, so sexy…

“Fuck!” Dean pulled away quickly and rolled right off of the bed, scrambling up to his feet and turning his back on Y/N.

She sat up, confused and worried again.

“Dean… I… are you ok?”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I'm just…”

“You don't want to…”

The sadness in her voice broke his heart and he turned back towards her. “No,Y/N, I do. Believe me I do. It's just…” _Just tell her._

Y/N’s eyes were wide with rejection, sad. She sat up, pulling the shirt down over her thighs, trying to hide. “What?”

_Fuck._ Dean shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “Nevermind.” He returned to the bed and sank down slowly, peeking at his watch as he sat by her feet. “I'm sorry, Baby, come here.”

She hesitated, but Dean opened his arms and she sank against him. Her warmth was familiar, the weight of her head on his shoulder a comfort. But her sigh was heartbreaking.

Y/N traced the ink on his chest with one delicate finger, absentmindedly following each flame like she always did. “Did I do something?”

Dean closed his eyes at her whisper and dug his teeth into his lip. “No, Y/N/N.” His arm tightened around her back and he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I guess I'm just tired.” Another kiss a little further down, landing on the tip of her nose.

Y/N smiled and pecked his lips. “It's OK.”

_Goddammit_ . He kissed her back, needing her to be happy, or at the very least, needing to not be the reason she was sad. Y/N pulled away from the kiss, respectful of his mood, but Dean couldn't help himself. She was so soft, so sad, so warm… _A kiss won't hurt._

When their tongues met, Dean almost forgot about the curse. There was nothing more important than being with her, being inside of her, making her shake and moan his name. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, his lips pressed against hers. Her eyelids fluttered as he breathed into her, reigniting the fire.

“Dean…”

Her fingers felt like silk as they fell down his chest and danced across his ribs.

_Fuck._

Two fingers hooked around his belt, and Dean moaned as Y/N tugged him towards her, shifting beneath him as he fell forward. She drew him closer with each flick of her tongue, spreading her legs to lock around his sides.

“Missed you so much,” she purred between kisses, her chest heaving beneath his.

“Me too.” _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ “God, you smell good.”

“So do you.” Y/N laughed and wrapped her hands around his neck, holding him still while she dragged her tongue up his sweaty throat. She licked the salt from his skin and ended by his ear, pulling the sensitive flesh between her teeth. “Taste good too,” she cooed.

A shiver lit Dean's spine and his cock twitched against his zipper, throbbing as Y/N's touch clouded his senses. Subconsciously, Dean rocked his hips up against her and Y/N bit down on his collarbone. _Jesus._

“You're not naked enough,” she teased, releasing his neck to tuck her hand between them, reaching for his zipper.

Dean moaned in absentminded desire as her fingers brushed over his cock, his jaw dropping as she popped the brass button on his jeans. “Y/N/N…”

With practiced ease, Y/N dropped the zipper, each click of the metal teeth making Dean's heart skip. _Gotta stop...fuck._ Her palm pressed against his boxers; his eyes rolled.

“Need you…” Y/N growled as she snuck two fingers through the pocket and danced across his velvety skin.

When her thumb brushed over his swollen head, Dean sucked in a deep breath and shuddered, remembering the dead men in the morgue. _Nope!_ He pulled away, pushing up on his arms to sneak some space between them. A glance at his watch did nothing, but he looked anyway. _Hurry up, Sammy!_

His plan backfired and Y/N was able to reach him better now, curling her hand completely around his fat erection and pumping him slowly. She sucked her teeth and grinned. “Not tired now, are you?”

“I...uh...oh wow. Fuck.” His heart was racing; upstairs and downstairs brains at odds. _Ahhh!_ Once again, Dean pulled away, this time rolling onto his side. He jumped up from the bed and yanked the phone from his back pocket.

Y/N sat up on her elbows, brows once again furrowed in concern. “I…”

_Damn this!_ “I'm sorry, Baby,” he apologized quickly. “Sam might need me…” He turned his back and began to text his brother, begging him to hurry up.

He didn't hear the bed creak as Y/N slipped off of the mattress, didn't sense her approach, jumping when her hands slid around his waist and pushed the denim from his hips.

“Wha-Hi!” He spun around and instantly received a deep kiss that stole his breath.

“Sam will be fine.”

Y/N snuck the phone from his hand and tossed it across the room. It landed safely on the couch, but Dean had little time to worry about Sam's reply as Y/N sank to her knees on the ugly brown carpet. She licked her lips as the boxers fell, and Dean thought he'd lose his mind.

“I really hate witches,” he mumbled as her breath passed over the tip of his cock.

“What’s that?”

Big eyes looked up and Dean shook his head quickly.

“Uh, nothing.” He swallowed hard and tried not to become transfixed by the wetness on her lips or the way she slowly opened her mouth, ready to take him in. _Shit. Um… baseball. The Dodgers left Brooklyn in nineteen fifty seven… holy fuck!_

Y/N pressed her lips against his throbbing vein and slid them upwards as her right hand cupped his balls.

“Fuck, Baby....so good.” _No! Stop thinking about it. Fuck, hurry up, Sam! I don’t wanna die like this._

A kiss to the tip, a warm circle of fingers at the base of his shaft.

_Um… Fuck. Think about something else… Wow, she’s good. Fuck. Um… Zeppelin. Houses of the Holy. Released March of… seventy three… gah!_

Y/N released him with a wet pop and looked up. “You’re so tense, Dean,” she teased, fitting her fists around his dick. “Relax…”

“I… wow.” _I’m gonna die here._

A few more bobs of her lips around him and Y/N got a new idea. She sat back for a second and released him as her hands flew to her shirt. Dean sighed, thankful for the momentary reprieve, and watched with a strange mix of lust and fear as she shed the flannel and exposed her breasts.

“You like?” Y/N asked, biting her lip.

Dean nodded, breathless and drooling. “Yuh huh. Yes. Very nice.”

She laughed and rolled her fingers around her nipples, making them hard and perky for him. “I'm glad.” Her lip curled in a devilish smile as she squeezed her tits together and leaned forward, easing the his cock between her flesh.

Dean wobbled forward a bit, all the blood rushing from his head. His hand fell to her shoulder as he tried to steady himself. _Oh God. Oh God. Not the tits. Fuck, I've been asking her to do this forever. Ohh...fuck._

Y/N dropped her chin and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out to lick his weeping head as Dean rocked his hips, fucking into her warm cleavage.

She hummed and his brain melted.

“So...fucking...sexy, Y/N...so hot. So hot.” Her lips narrowed, forming a tighter circle, and his cock popped in and out with a satisfying wetness. “Gonna cum all over these gorgeous tits. You want that? You want my cum all over you?”

Y/N moaned in response, swallowing him down as best she could.

“Fuck, Baby. So good.” His stomach tightened and Dean jerked his hips forward, picking up the pace. Saliva dripped from Y/N's open mouth, coating his cock as it slid through the hollow. He looked down at the tops of her glistening breasts and his breath hitched.

_Oh no. No, no, no._ His heart was beating too fast, struggling to keep up with his rhythm. His thighs burned, bent at an odd angle for too long; his eyes were blurry, his face glowing with sweat. _Goddamnit!_

Dean hissed as he pulled away, gripping the base of his cock with a firm hand. He stumbled backwards and Y/N caught her breath, watching him back away.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, mhm. Fuck.” Dean hobbled to the chair by the table and sank down, wiping his brow with a trembling hand. “Just need a minute.”

Y/N stood and hopped onto the bed, spreading her legs for him. She ran her hands down her thighs and back up, biting her lip as she waited.

Dean raised a brow and let out a slow breath as Y/N scratched her inner thighs, leaving a faint line of red behind.

“Don't wait for me,” he grinned, urging her onwards.

Nervously, Y/N let her left hand slid all the way between her legs, and she moaned as she pressed up against her already damp panties. She rocked her hips against her hand, rubbing her clit through the thin cotton.

_Holy...shit. This is fucking incredible._

When her knees started shaking, Y/N laid back and lifted her hips, slowly peeling away her panties. She scooted back a bit and hooked her heels on the edge of the mattress, showing him everything.

Even from across the room, he could see how ready she was, hot wet and swollen.

“Jesus Christ, Baby. You are so beautiful.”

Y/N replied with a moan as she pressed two fingers into her cunt, slowly pumping in and out as her free hand tugged on her nipple.

As Y/N fucked herself, Dean watched on, his hand beginning to move on its own. Instinct and desire forced him to slide his fist over his cock, again and again until his own growl shocked him.

_No! Stop! Sam what the fuck, man! Hurry up!_

Once Y/N got going, there was no slowing down. Both hands worked her aching pussy until she was thrashing about on the bed, her legs shaking, breasts bouncing; she needed to cum.

Unfortunately, so did Dean.

To stop himself, he sat on his hands. He bit his tongue, he held his breath. He tried closing his eyes, but the noises Y/N was making drove his imagination further than reality, so that was a bust. He thought about the Impala, the steps involved in replacing the carburetor; tried to calculate how many miles until the next oil change. When that failed, he tried to recite the state capitals in alphabetical order, but got no further than Hartford before he lost track and became mesmerized by the quick flick of Y/N's wrist. Nothing was working. He was a goner.

“Dean,” Y/N panted, breaking all his concentration, “I need you.”

Her voice was intoxicating, stronger than any drug, her needy whimper more powerful than even his will to live.

“I'm here, Baby,” he groaned back, nearly losing it as she jumped up from the bed and into his arms. Before he could think to stop her, Y/N wrapped herself around him, sinking down easily onto his waiting cock.

They cried out in unison, flesh hot and slick, hearts racing, lust filled bodies in control.

Y/N hooked her hands behind his neck, holding on as she bounced on his lap.

_I can't...oh my god._

His pulse beat in his ears, each tick of his heart reminding him of the witch's curse.

_No, no, no!_

 Y/N's fingers tugged at the longer hairs on top of his head, and Dean whimpered pathetically.

  _Gotta stop…_

 She kissed his mouth, sucking his juicy bottom lip between her teeth. “Fuck me, Dean. Please.”

 He hesitated, holding his breath as Y/N opened her eyes, staring into his with desperation.

 “Please.” She licked at his lips and Dean melted, giving up.

  _Fuck it. If this is death, I'll take it._

 Decision made, Dean pulled his arms tight around her and stood up, barely making it to the bed before dropping her. Y/N shrieked and held on, his cock still nicely sheathed by her throbbing pussy.

 The sheet billowed around them.

 Her nails dug into his back.

 His thighs bruised her ass.

 His heart pounded. His breath shuddered. His jaw dropped, chest tightened.

 Y/N came, tightening around his cock, her body shaking as her orgasm struck. Dean watched on, fucking her through it, trying to hold back, fighting for his life.

 At the very edge, Y/N's eyes flew open. She bit her lip and curled her hand around his neck, drawing him down to her. She kissed him hard and tightened her hold, whispering the magic words against his lips, “Cum inside me, Dean.”

_No, no, no, fuck!_

His hips locked as he spilled into her; shoulders pulsing inwards as he came. Spasms rocked his body, his teeth gnashed, his eyes rolled.

“No!” Dean's terrified cry pulled Y/N from her blissful haze and she pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart banging inside.

“Dean, are you OK!”

He stumbled backwards, clutching his heart as fear took over.

_This is it! You had to go and fuck your girlfriend. You couldn't wait a few hours! Fucking moron!_

“Dean!”

Y/N was on her feet, rushing to his side just as Dean doubled over. He was gasping for air, his throat closing in panic.

“Y/N!” He managed to grab her hand as he fell to his knees. “I love you. I'm...I'm so sorry.” _Here it comes!_

Dean pressed his lips to Y/N’s hand and let go, falling onto his back with dramatic flair. He closed his eyes, face scrunching up as he waited for the final sting of death.

“This is it!”

“This is what!”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Dean!”

He held his breath.

He clenched his jaw.

Nothing happened.

He counted to ten.

His heart kept beating.

“Dean!” Y/N was on her knees at his side, her face masked in terror, hands flying above his form, not knowing what was happening. “Dean! Talk to me!”

He peeked an eye open and exhaled. “I…” He sat up slowly. “I’m not dead.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she looked him over. “No… you’re not…”

Dean grinned. “I’m not dead!”

“What the fuck are you talking about! Wait…” Y/N’s concern turned to annoyance as she put the pieces together. “Did you get cursed?”

“What? No! I…”

Y/N sat back, shaking her head as a laugh tickled her lips. “Yes, you did. You got cursed and thought you were about to die.”

Dean blushed, embarrassed and still pumping with adrenaline. “Oops?”

“Jesus, Dean. You could have just told me.”

“I wanted to, just, you’re… all…” He waved a hand at her, smirking. “You’re hot.” He shrugged and Y/N laughed.

“You’re insane. You could have died!”

Dean crawled over to her and fell back against the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry. You’re just too much to resist.”

“Horny bastard.”

Dean opened his mouth to shoot her a witty retort, but the door opened at the same time, sending a cool breeze across their sweat covered skin. Y/N jumped as Sam burst in, and quickly grabbed her flannel from the carpet to hide as much as she could.

“Sam! What the hell!”

“Oh, shit!” Sam spun around, his hand coming up to shield his eyes. “Sorry! Just… Dean wasn’t answering his phone and I…”

“We’re good,” Dean spoke up, resting his arm on a bent knee. “Not dead.”

“Yeah. Good.” Sam peeked from between his fingers. “I took care of the thing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and tried to shrink behind the shirt. “We know. Get out.”

The door shut again with much flustered apology and Dean turned to Y/N, licking his lips and smirking.

“So…”

Y/N caught the twinkle in his eye as he leaned closer, puckering his lips. “You’re kidding, right?”

Dean chuckled. “Hey, I’m not dead and Sam’s scared for life anyway.” He shrugged. “Round two?”

“You’re insatiable.” A quick kiss. “And an idiot.”

Another kiss, a little longer. “But I’m your idiot.”

A slip of tongue, hands on scruffy cheeks. “Just my luck.”

 


End file.
